


The Resurrectionist, or An Existential Crisis in C#

by lunarvestal



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Flashbacks, Gen, Insane Wilbur Soot, Kinda, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ranboo is just kinda there, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, he's just real messed up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarvestal/pseuds/lunarvestal
Summary: Wilbur is resurrected, and though his mind is in pieces, he senses the unease in the people around him. They speak to him with hesitance, like there's something he can't know. He hates being unsure. He hates being alive.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Other(s), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello there
> 
> wanna preface this by saying that it's been years since i've written fic so if this is bad/ooc bear with me
> 
> also still not sure if i want to make this like a full thing so keep that in mind

The ritual had gone exactly to plan. Tommy stood anxiously with the others who had come to see Ghostbur's revival. There was a sense of hesitance in the air as they watched the ghost and his father prepare the final steps to the ceremony. Phil had made an altar of sorts in roughly the same place where the button room stood, with gold and lapis blocks in place of the cold stone room. Ghostbur was even wearing the old trench coat Wilbur had worn in Pogtopia, which Tommy had left at Techno's house after his exile. 

Being back at the site of the explosion was making everyone anxious, Tommy thought as he watched the others. Niki stared ahead at the two on the altar with a concerned expression. Eret had a similar look on their face, even having been one to help prepare the ritual. Fundy stood with his arms crossed, looking displeased. Ranboo shuffled his feet awkwardly, and Tommy wondered why he would even want to be here. They all knew it could go very, very wrong, and recreating Wilbur's death was bound to be disturbing at best. The day of the explosion had been hell on earth for all of them. Fighting for their lives, for their home, only for it to be for nothing at all. Every part of the country’s history in the very soil of the land, turned to all but dust on the faces of weary soldiers with nothing left to give but their lives, with just the press of a button. To see the final culmination of war after war, the endless cycle of violence they were forced to be a part of to win back a nation that was never meant to be. It broke them. And the most recent explosion, destroying everything they’d worked to rebuild, that broke them in ways they hadn’t thought possible. They refused to try yet another time, there was no hope for L’Manburg anymore. Wilbur was right, it seemed.

Tommy’s mind wandered while everyone waited. Being in this spot brought back unpleasant memories, as did most places in L’Manburg. He thinks back to his time in the button room, him and Quackity having to physically restrain Wil from getting to the button. The room still haunted the boy’s nightmares. The cold from the stone. The carvings of the lyrics on the walls. The smell of gunpowder and cigarettes. The dead silence. Sometimes Tommy has to stop himself from wondering just how many hours Wilbur sat alone in that room when he wasn’t in Pogtopia. Staring at that button, contemplating not if, but when.

What an awful place to die.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears Ghostbur and Phil start reenacting, quite poorly, what went down in the button room. Tommy is beyond their words, they get tuned out. He’s overwhelmed with thoughts as he looks at what’s playing out before him. Ghostbur gestures dramatically with his arms, holding a totem of undying in one hand. Phil said having the totem was the most important part of the ritual, and would almost certainly bring him back, but Tommy still had his doubts. What if something went wrong and Ghostbur passes onward? Then he would have to confront the fact that his brother was really gone for good. He didn’t have time to deal with that, he still hadn’t dealt with all his other traumas, he didn’t need more.

“It was never meant to be!” Ghostbur exclaimed, voice far too cheery as usual. He turned towards Phil, throwing his hands up above his head. The motion almost looked celebratory, but everyone in the group knew it was so he could get stabbed. Ghosbur waited with his arms in the air, but Phil hesitated. The ghost’s arms lowered slightly as he gave the other a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” he said gently, “I’ll be fine.” Another beat passes, Phil’s hands tremble. He takes an unsteady breath as he lifts the sword. Squeezing his eyes shut, he drives the sword through the other’s torso.

In a fraction of a second, Tommy is back in time. He blinks, and he’s standing in the rubble of L’Manburg. The ground still smokes from the explosion that happened not moments ago, and there’s still a ring in his ears. Tommy looks around frantically, searching for something, anything left standing. He will not find what he’s looking for. It’s all gone. He glances behind him, hearing Tubbo and Fundy run up to stand beside him. As he turns around, he notices that the entire back wall of the button room has been blown off. He sees Wilbur’s back as the older man seems to be shouting something at their father, but they’re too far away to be heard. He continues to watch as Phil takes something from Wil and shouts back. Tears streaming down his face, the older man takes a step toward his son. The three boys watch on as a sword pierces through flesh, exiting through the back of the torso, blood soaking into the clothes. For a second time that day, Tommy’s world is blown to pieces. His father looks out over the wreckage as Wilbur collapses, but his eyes are glazed over, his mind is elsewhere. As the ringing fades from his ears, Tommy catches the last words he’ll ever hear his brother say, screamed out over the remnants of his nation.

_“I won.”_

The sword is yanked out with the nauseating squish of internal organs being rearranged. Blood spills out and covers the ground, a bright red in contrast to Ghostbur’s usual blue. The color confirms to the others that the ceremony should be working, though Phil knew the second his sword touched skin. The sensation of blade through bone, the sound that looped in his sleepless nights, exactly the same as before. The gasps of horror pull Tommy from his flashback, and he watches the same scene from a new angle as Ghostbur falls to his knees. His head tilts back, grip tightening on the totem in his hand. White eyes start to glow as green and gold particles swirl around his body. The gray skin and yellow sweater that Ghostbur was known for changed to be that of Wilbur in his last moments alive. His shirt was torn, but fresh blood no longer covered him or the blade. The totem clatters to the ground, and everyone waits anxiously. 

Suddenly Wilbur gasps, hunching over as he starts to cough violently. He stares at the ground disorientated, a hand coming up to clutch at his stomach. His hand comes up dry, and while he’s in pain, he isn’t bleeding. Looking down at his torso, he double checks to confirm he doesn’t have a stab wound, though it’s the last thing he remembers. His head is pounding, and he realizes he’s not quite sure where he is as he rubs his eyes. Wilbur lifts his head, and locks eyes with his younger brother.

Tommy looks into eyes he’d never thought he’d see again, alive as ever, and is taken back once more. He sees the passionate look Wilbur had given him as he tells Tommy of his plan for independence. He sees the look of shock and fear as they stand in the final control room, betrayed by one of their own. He sees the look of disappointment after he loses the duel with Dream, perfectly resembling their father. Joy, as they celebrate their victory. Worry, as the election fast approaches.

And he sees the decline. Paranoia, as he interrogates Tubbo about the plans for the festival. Malice, as he calls his son a traitor. Amusement, as he urges him to fight Techno in the pit. Spite, as he tells Tommy he will never be president.

When Tommy looked into the eyes of his brother, he realized he had made a mistake.

He shouldn’t have come to the ceremony. He shouldn’t have told Ghostbur coming back to life was a good idea. He shouldn’t have reassured Phil that it would all work out. He shouldn’t have told Tubbo he’d be fine to go alone.

When they make eye contact, Tommy is filled with fear. He falls backwards into the dirt, fight or flight kicking in. Racing to his feet, he ran as fast as he could, away from the cold gaze that still haunted so many of his nightmares. Nobody missed the way he looked like he was running for his life.

Dazed, Wilbur sat unmoving, barely knowing his own name. As he watched a familiar face turn and run, a jolt of dread shook through his bones. Whoever this boy was, Wilbur had the instinctual feeling that if he was running from him, something was wrong. Very, very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you saw that the title has changed 5 times, no you didn't <3
> 
> title is now the same as a frank iero song :) if i change it again you can yell at me

Life was a lot quieter than Wilbur remembered. The days after he came back were painful, filled with recalling unwanted memories and the mundanity of a life without war. Peace had always disturbed him, fighting to stay alive had become the way of life in the SMP. But Techno and Phil’s house was nice. Cold didn’t phase him, and he preferred being far away from everyone else. He didn’t like the way everyone looked at him. There were still a lot of gaps in his memory, but he remembered the end. The way the others looked at him, with pity, he despised that.

He didn’t deserve their pity. He had gotten what he deserved, and they still brought him back anyways.

That was the worst part about it all. Dying had been very intentional, and having that taken away from him was irritating. As awful as purgatory with Schlatt was, Wilbur wanted to be anywhere but here. He avoided everyone because he knew what they really wanted from him.

They wanted him to feel remorse, guilt, to be sorry. To feel _something_ again. But he didn’t.

He pulled the jacket on his shoulders tighter around himself. Phil had given him a sweater and an old bomber jacket in place of his destroyed clothes, to his dismay. Wilbur’s old coat had given him comfort. He clung to it, grasping for any semblance of warmth. It offered none, but he wanted to hold onto it anyways, the placebo effect of heat was the most he’d felt in a long time.

He pondered his frigidity as he hunched over the fireplace. Though his memory wasn’t the best, he remembered that the numb feeling had been there for quite a while. He couldn’t recall when the bitter, endless cold had come, though. He wondered if that cold is what pushed him over the edge. If the search for warmth is what led him to the spark of dynamite. However he tried to find warmth, it didn’t work. He died in the flames of an explosion, and was still frozen solid. He was starting to give up hope on melting. The flames always provided solace, but their warmth never reached his insides.

Techno entered the home and saw his brother _(could he really call him that still?)_ sitting close to the fire. He remembers Wilbur doing the exact same in Pogtopia, stone faced and just barely too far to get burned. The edges of his coat were singed from the heat, and he always smelled of smoke. Seeing him like this again was frustrating to say the least. Having to watch him become a husk of his former self hurt everyone around him. His behavior reignited that same anger Techno had felt when he first started acting this way. He knew Wilbur better than most, he knew he did this on purpose. Whether consciously or unconsciously he fueled his own downfall. It was more than likely the former.

Because that was the way Wilbur was. He was stubborn about his beliefs, and if he believed he was the villain, he’d change until that became reality.

Wilbur’s actions hurt the rest of their family more than anyone else. Techno had learned he couldn’t trust anyone, but Tommy was naive. He looked up to his older brother more than anyone. Being forced to watch as he broke under the weight of his own mind traumatized the boy, though he’d never admit that. Tommy made the mistake of putting all his eggs into the same basket, and Wilbur had made a point to crush as many as he could.

Techno sighed and walked past the fireplace to the chests that lined the back wall of the home. He didn’t have the patience to hold his tongue any longer.

“You should stop that you know…” He glanced across the room at the other man sitting on the floor. Wilbur tilted his head in the direction of the sound but did not respond.

“Acting like this. Living in the past.”

“What else can I do? In case you didn’t notice, I died. I’m not exactly caught up on current events.” Wilbur chuckled. His voice sounded worn, it was stretched out and thin. He hadn’t spoken much since he’d come back, being alive was hard when you hadn’t done it in a while. His lungs rattled when he breathed and talking hurt.

“That’s not what I meant,” Techno sighed, rummaging through the chest he had open. Of course Wilbur would be evasive about this. He’d only get more difficult, Techno knew that. How Phil could tolerate his shitty attitude, he’d never know.

“Yeah? Enlighten me then.” Techno turned back toward the fireplace to see Wilbur looking up at him with a smirk. Techno scowled and shut the chest loudly.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You sit here and avoid everyone so you don’t have to see the aftermath of what you did. They deserve answers, you know.” 

Wilbur laughed and turned back to the fire. “Right, cause I’m the only one who owes them. You’re not in the position to tell me who I’ve hurt. You’re just as bad as I am, why do you care how they feel?”

“Because you’re hurting Phil and Tommy. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and apologize.”

Wilbur stood up off the ground and whipped around to face the other. “Sorry for myself? Do you have any idea what I lost? I had everything taken from me.” He raised his voice and took a few challenging steps towards his brother.

“This is what I’m talking about! You’re selfish. You think Phil wanted to murder his own son? Get your head out of your ass and think about anyone but yourself for once.” Techno shuffled back slightly as the other came closer. He didn’t exactly feel threatened, he could beat Wilbur in a fight any day, but he did feel… disturbed. The look in his eyes, both crazed and empty. It was animalistic. Techno had encroached on forbidden territory.

“God, stop talking to me like that. Like you know what’s best for me.” Wilbur’s hands flew to the hair at the back of his head and pulled. He began pacing in circles. The motions felt all too familiar, almost instinctual.

“You really think this is best for you?”

“Don’t say that like you’d know better than me. You don’t know shit about what I went through. I lost it all. Everything. I have nothing left, don’t you _dare_ tell me I did this to myself.” The pacing came to a sudden stop. Wilbur glared across the room, nails digging into his scalp. Technoblade had zero right to dictate how he should live his life. He was never there for him, nobody was, in the end.

_Technoblade could go to hell, and take everyone else there with him._

“ _I_ don’t know shit? I came all the way out here. I travelled for miles. I spent hours and hours getting supplies for your stupid war. I did it for _you_. And you threw everything away for yourself. You think I wanted you to die? Nobody did. We were all fighting for you.” Techno stepped closer, punctuating his sentence by poking Wilbur hard in the shoulder.

“You think I care? I don’t! I couldn’t care less about what any of you want from me. I’m proud of what I did. Guilt won’t work on me, I don’t fucking care about any of you.” Wilbur rushes forward, shoving Techno backwards by the shoulders, causing the other to stumble and hit his head hard on the wall behind him. They did not notice the two that had entered.

“Techno? Are you alright?” Philza mumbled, taking a careful step toward the two in the center of the room. Ranboo stood hesitantly by the door.

Technoblade rubbed the back of his head and looked at the door, anywhere but his brother’s face. “Yeah, just great.” He said, storming to the exit, barging between the two at the door. He slammed it behind him as he left, making Ranboo flinch. Wilbur grumbled something under his breath, taking his position back in front of the fire. Phil sighed.

Somewhere along the line his boys had gone astray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can really tell dialogue is not my strong suit in this one :))))))))
> 
> also finished this at 7am after staying up so thanks for reading even though this is probably not great


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been missing them and got carried away.... whoops

The weeks after Wilbur’s revival had somehow been more stressful than anything Tommy had experienced before. Rushing to prepare for Dream’s meeting, with so little time. Dream’s ultimatum, Tubbo nearly dying. He had almost lost everything. Again.

But now Dream is in the prison. Tommy has the disks. Things can be okay again.

_ Dream can’t hurt us anymore. He’s gone. We’re safe. _

The real world was as much of a safe haven as it could be. But any time alone with his mind, he was reminded that his fears lie much deeper than the physical realm, and he hated it. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid. He’s supposed to be strong, too many people see him as the hero for him to show weakness. And his fears are just… wrong.

People aren’t supposed to be scared of their family.

So when he wakes each day remembering a new nightmare, like clockwork since the resurrection, he is ashamed and afraid.

He is afraid of the way his older brother looks at him, his former hero. There is no longer a fire in his eyes, nor a warmth in his gaze. His eyes stare onward, cold and dead. He is a walking corpse, now literally. He is cold, freezing, endlessly so. He’s no longer the man who practically raised him.

He is afraid of his eldest brother’s vengeance. They had already been distant, and his generosity in taking Tommy in was more of a blessing to the youngest than he knew. In the wake of such tragedy, Wilbur’s death and the subsequent death of L’Manburg, maybe his family could start to heal. Of course it would all come crashing back down again. Their family never lasted long.

And he is afraid of his father, as much of a father as he could be considered. He would defend his eldest to the end of his days, but a being who is more than mortal cannot say such things. He does so anyway, cursing the rest of his family to be consigned to oblivion. He is a man who would give up anything and everything for his loved ones, though he seems to lack both limits and shame for picking favorites.

He is ashamed of feeling afraid.  _ They’re your family, _ something in him says,  _ you’re supposed to love them.  _ And most of the time he does. They have their ups and downs, though it’s far more drastic than most. Power and people and  _ objects _ tear them apart and bring them back together again. For a long time things were stable, and Tommy needed that. He needed something to fall back on, with the constant war and threats and death that seemed to follow him around, these days more than usual. Then all the pieces seemed to fall out of place one by one. Still, some cruel, selfish part of him says that there’s a hope. A hope for them to come back from this. A part of him that says he can be enough to keep their makeshift, fucked up, awful family together.

_ It’s all he’s counting on these days, really. To be enough. _

When he wakes up after a rest that felt like an eternity, he stops for a moment, waiting for it to hit him. Whatever nightmare from the night before should hit him any moment. But it doesn’t. He doesn’t see yet another distorted scene of his family, and the many ways they’ve hurt him. Instead, to his surprise, another familiar face from his nightmares takes their place. In lieu of the normal cast is Dream, but these aren’t figments of his twisted imagination, they’re  _ memories _ .

He sees Dream, the giant mountain they’d climbed up, a futile battle, TNT, the elevator, no escape. There’s too much coming back to him all at once and it’s all so painfully real. Thoughts race, it’s all too overwhelming.  _ Is Dream really gone? What if he comes back? What if he hurts me? What if he hurts Tubbo? Tubbo almost died! Tubbo was willing to die! He could’ve killed us! What if everyone had been too late? Would anyone have come if I hadn’t bribed Punz? Did they even care? Was it even worth it? For some disks? Tubbo could have died over some stupid fucking disks- _

“Tommy?” Tommy blinks, realizing he’s sat up in bed, staring down at his hands in his lap. He blinks a couple more times, looking over to see Tubbo stood at the side of his bed. Looking out the window, he sees the sun that’s just risen over the horizon, sky still painted with light oranges and pinks.

“What time is it?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes as tired washes over him.

“Early,” Tubbo says, still looking at Tommy curiously. Tommy rolls his eyes at the response.  _ Incredibly helpful, Tubbo, thank you. _

“Tommy… are you alright?” Tommy tilted his head at the question.

“What d’you mean  _ am I alright? _ ” He asked, peering up at the other boy with uncertainty.

“Well, you were kind of talking to yourself Big Man.” Tubbo looked concerned. Had he been talking to himself? Tommy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and frustration.

“No I wasn’t…” He insisted. Though he knew the answer was likely a yes, he couldn’t risk it being the truth. He was  _ not _ going to go crazy and he was  _ not _ going to accept it if he was. Tommy could not repeat history. He had made a promise. Still, Tubbo shook his head at his friend.

“You were! It woke me up this morning. I was trying to sleep and you were talking out loud.”

“Tubbo, I know myself better than anyone, and I know I wasn’t talking to myself.” Tommy added quickly, seemingly trying to reassure himself more than his friend. He huffed, looking back down into his lap. He’s starting to shake.

“It just doesn’t sound like something I would do.” He cracked a quick grin up at the other boy, but Tubbo could see it falter for a second. A silent plea to the other to let them ignore it, let them both pretend things were the same. They hadn’t been the same in a long time, it felt like decades. But they could pretend.

Tubbo smiled sympathetically down at his friend, a silent acknowledgement to be remembered for the future. They shared many unspoken rules and made sure to keep to them, especially after all that had been said on Doomsday.

With a shaky breath, Tommy pulled his knees to his chest, curling in on himself. The older took advantage of the newfound space, flopping down on the lower half of the bed and startling his friend. He beamed at the blond, nudging him with his side as he looked out the window. An invitation to watch. Just like old times.

The sunrise was already half over by the time the two sat down to watch it, but it was still beautiful. The sky was covered in pastels, pink and orange fading into the light blue of the day. Snow covering the ground reflected the colors in the air. The glowing orange sun was framed by the forest of pines. They had seen many sunsets and sunrises, but this one felt different. It marked the beginning of what would be a fresh start. They were inside, they were safe and protected, they felt a sense of security. With the rising sun, they could feel many other burdens lift from their shoulders. The two sat in silence for a long while, taking their freedom in.

“Tubbo I think…” Tommy took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable negative reaction. “I want to visit Wilbur.”

Tubbo’s face scrunched up in confusion. He gave the other a skeptical look. The blond pouted in response.

“Don’t make that face!” He complained, making the other giggle. “I just… I just miss him a lot, man. I really do. I know that he was… and now I’m all… I just- I can’t-” He trailed off. He was  _ fucking crazy  _ and now I’m  _ traumatized. _ Some things are better left unsaid. The sentiment was still there.

Tubbo sighed, noticing the way his friend could no longer hide the tremble in his voice. He knows what it was like for Tommy when they were in Pogtopia. Even now, Wilbur terrified him. The younger boy had come running to Snowchester after the revival, pale and scared into silence. He refused to say a word about what had happened. Tubbo had to ask Fundy about what went down to find out, which made him feel worse. Tommy was still so messed up he couldn’t even tell his best friend. The thought of Tommy going back to see the person who made him feel that way… 

But Tubbo could understand. Sometimes you shouldn’t love the people you love. He knew that feeling well. As badly as you want to hate them, they stick and you can’t get rid of the way you still want to be close to them. Family could do that to you, especially. So he won’t judge his friend’s mixed feelings. He wouldn’t know what he’d do in Tommy’s situation, if he’s honest. It’s a position he’s not sure if he wants to think about himself in…… Does Tubbo miss him?

He decides it’s best to not think about that for now.

“Do you need to borrow one of my coats?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst... hey... if you like this story you might like the playlist i made for it :) it's called Death Reversed by mothman on spotify. the whole playlist is all for wilbur since this story will focus on him mainly i simply got carried away this chapter,,, which btw thanks for reading!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to clarify the blood thing? ghostbur's blood/tears are blue and evaporate since he's semi-corporeal 
> 
> so since he was stabbed as ghostbur all the blood went away
> 
> that sounds so dumb lol anyways thanks for reading :)


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